


Set Your Priorities

by lar_laughs



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode: s05e20 Enemy at the Gate, M/M, Post Season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lar_laughs/pseuds/lar_laughs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Atlantis is back on Earth and John is focusing on all the wrong things. He needs a wake up call to get him back on track to what is really important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set Your Priorities

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rubygirl29](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/gifts).



> The prompts I was given: Friendship, h/c, family background, intimacy. I used a little of everything!
> 
> Special thanks to Aster for being the best beta in the world.

Being back on Earth was different. Strange, even. John didn't have time to do much more than sit in his designated chair in the designated conference room and try to stay awake. If he was lucky, there was time between the different points of order for real food and not the pretzels and bad coffee that had become the stapel of his diet.

The problem was that no arguement was making the IOA see reason. It was exhausting to the point that John could barely make it back to his rooom each night with enough fortitude to pull his clothes off and fall into bed. He was just glad that the group had allowed the meetings to be held at Atlantis. They might have been back on Earth but commuting between Atlantis and Cheyenne Mountain, even with a stargate, would still be a bitch.

As tired as he'd been last night, John was fairly certain there hadn't been anyone in his bed when he'd flung himself on top of the covers. As tired as he still was this morning, because his wake up call had come far too early for his liking, he was absolutely certain that he wasn't alone any longer. A hand lay heavy on his hip, warm breath stirring the hair at the nape of his neck, the thin blanket from his foot locker now draped over most of his body.

"Got tired of your self-imposed exile?" he asked as he pressed himself back against the firm body that he'd missed these last weeks. His own body was beginning to respond to the promise of what might happen if he were patient.

At first, he thought that Ronon might have been well and truly asleep, as his breathing stayed even and deep against the back of his neck, and John was about ready to close his eyes to snag a few more minutes of sleep when the hand at his hip began to stroke the skin there with feather-light touches.

"They only see me as an alien."

This whisper was nothing more than a movement of air and then his face was pressed against John's neck, the sigh reverberating through every bone and muscle until John couldn't help but feel the misery as his own. John wanted to turn around so that Ronon would be forced to look at him but that wouldn't do any good. All it would do was dry up the words. If Ronon wanted to talk, John wasn't going to do anything to stop that.

"You afraid they're going to make me change my mind about the way that I feel about you?" This was an argument they'd had before but John had thought he'd made his position crystal clear.

"No. 'Course not."

He answered quick enough that John knew it was the truth. "Then why aren't you here when I get back every night? I miss you, Ronon. I've gotten used to having you here to lull me to sleep with your snoring."

After a decent pause, Ronon moved away. For a moment, John thought that he might be getting out of bed but he'd only rolled to his back, one arm flung over his eyes. As much as he would have liked to ease the worry out of the man slowly, John knew he didn't have enough time to do this properly. That just meant he'd have to play dirty.

John followed Ronon to the other side of the narrow bed, hovering over him even though his arms were protesting. Life had gotten too sedentary of late. That, or he was getting too old for these kinds of morning gymnastics. "I want you here, Ronon. Or I want you to let me in your room if I decide to follow you there. I don't know what you did but not even Atlantis will let me in."

"She likes me."

As if putting in her own two cents, the lights flared on. John didn't need to look at his watch to know that it was time for him to get moving or there wasn't going to be time to grab some breakfast before the first of today's many meetings. "Likes you. Right," he muttered as they flared brighter. "Okay, listen. You don't want to talk to me, that's fine. You don't have to talk. I just want you here. Don't... don't run away from me. Not now. I kind of need you around."

Ronon lifted his arm away from his eyes, his expression hard as he waited for John's reaction to the bruises along the side of his face. The vivid purple was already edged with yellow and green, a garish mask even on Ronon's dusky skin. "I wasn't running away."

It was a statement, both in reply to John's spoken words as much as his unspoken statement. For someone who was a warrior, open wounds and bruising were a way of life. They were nothing to be ashamed of. The fact that Ronon was ashamed of this, had hidden it from John for so long, was cause for worry.

"Who did this?" When Ronon didn't answer right away, John climbed out of bed. He didn't bother getting new clothes out of the closet, just threw on everything he'd thrown on to the floor last night without a care for the wrinkles. "Who did this?" he yelled when he was done. "Tell me."

"This is why I haven't been around."

"Yeah. Got that already." It was hard but John refused to pace. Instead, he stayed in one place, his hands on his hips, and stared at his lover. "Tell me that you fought back. That you gave as good as you got."

Ronon refused to look at him which was all the answer he needed. There was a reason for this. For all of this. He just didn't know what it was at the moment.

***

"Lorne. My office. Now." John knew there had been some sort of cover up for this info to have never gotten to him. Woolsey had been in the same meetings he'd been in so Lorne had been handling the day to day operations of the city. The buck had to stop somewhere. All he could hope for was one hell of an explanation or he was going to throw around words like _demotion_ and _brig_.

He kept telling himself that he'd have been angry if this had happened to anyone but, truth was, John didn't like it when Ronon got hurt. He especially didn't like it when Ronon got hurt on Earth. It looked bad for the planet he'd called home for so long. Until now, Ronon's view of the humans of Earth were made up of a grieving family in Scotland, a distant brother, a misguided millionaire and a psychopathic scientist. Right now, Jeannie, Kaleb and Madison were the only genuinely nice humans that Ronon had met.

He wasn't sure who was responsible for this newest threat to his lover but he had a good idea. There were new units of Marines that had been assigned to Atlantis when they'd first arrived. Not all of them were the sort that would have vetted into the Stargate program previous to their splash down into the Pacific. Not all of them were good people. That's what made them good Marines.

"Sir?" Lorne's eye were downcast but John had seen the fear in them as soon as he had entered the office. Yes, he most definitely was keeping something from his commanding officer. 

John didn't have to say anything. Instead, he just growled. It was all that Lorne needed to start his tale of Ronon being in the wrong place at the wrong time. "He let the men take their shots without any retaliation. Rodney's been coaching both of them, Teyla and Ronon, on what could go wrong if they don't toe the line. The last thing he wanted was to make problems for you."

"And how is telling me what's been happening going to make any problems for me?"

"Because," Lorne paused, feeling the words out in his head before he said them out loud. It's something that he does often and John has always admired his ability to hold the words in without just spitting them out when he's in a stressful situation. "Because then you would have to take sides. Rodney was very insistant-"

"Rodney... was very insistant, was he?" It was hard to contain the fury that was welling up inside of him. Not at Rodney. Not even at Lorne or Ronon. This never would have happened if he'd been around more. He would have noticed that something was wrong with his friends. No, that wasn't right. He would have kept them safe and this _never_ would have happened.

Instead of letting John wallow in his self-righteous misery, Lorne continued as if he hadn't said anything at all. "Rodney was very insistant that you not have to play sides between the military and Atlantis."

'And what about you, Lorne. What about you? Where were you in all of this?"

For the first time, Lorne met his gaze. "I agreed with him."

"Maybe taking sides isn't such a bad thing." Lorne gave him a speculative look but John was on to something. He just wasn't completely sure what it was. He did know, however, that he had to do something about the small threat to the city before he started in on anything larger.

***

John didn't go to any meetings that day. He called for a city-wide gathering in the Mess Hall of everyone that had been on Atlantis before it arrived on Earth. He'd had to make that distinction because the first group through the door had been the Marines he pegged for Ronon's mistreatment. Bold as brass, they took a seat right up front, just as if they'd always been there. They smiled at John as if to say, "Hey, buddy. We got your back."

It turned his stomach but John gave them a lazy smile. "Hey, guys. I heard you've been busy since you've been here on Atlantis."

"Just doing what we've been trained to do."

"Thing is, we don't need your type of training on Atlantis. We're all pretty peaceful here. Or," he turned to acknowledge Teyla and Ronon as they walked into the room, "we were. See, we're a family here. All of us. Not just the ones who arrived from Earth. And all of us, even the people who started out in the Pegasus galaxy, have arrived here to keep Earth safe."

"Sounds good." The rest of the men nodded their heads as the largest one among them pretended like he really did understand what John was saying to him. "What can we do to help?"

John ground his teeth together as he struggled for composure. He couldn't very well flay into these men for obeying their superiors, even if they'd taken the words a little too much to heart. No one had thought to tell them that Ronon and Teyla had been given a sort of resident alien status, meaning they were off limits to the _kill every alien you see_ ruling. "You can start by leaving."

"Sir?"

"Leave. The room. Then you can leave Atlantis. You've been reassigned."

"But-"

Lorne took over for him, ushering the group out just as the rest of the Atlantis team filed in. "The ink is drying on the form as we speak, men. We're going to need you to leave the premises. Pack your bags and report to the gate room at 1300."

The leader of the group looked around Lorne, his eyes zeroing in on John. "Sir? I thought-"

"You didn't join the Marines to think, Sturgess. Do what the Major has instructed you to do."

The glare that the man leveled at him was a good indication of what kind of anger the man was capable. It was a pity that he'd decided to interact with Ronon like he had because a man like him would have been valuable against the Wraith. Still could be, in the right hands. Those hands weren't on Atlantis, nor would they ever be. This group of men could fight the Wraith from Earth's soil because John was afraid what he might do to them if they stayed here.

No, that wasn't quite right. He was afraid of Ronon might do when he realized that he was no longer hindered by the rules and regulations that Rodney had dreamed up. It would have been satisfying to watch but wrong to revel in that sort of punishment. This was the better way.

***  
"What happened with Lorne, well, I thought he understood my position. I'm sorry." Teyla and Ronon just stared at John as if they thought he had more to say. That was all he'd come prepared to say. Granted, there was more he planned on saying to Ronon alone but it wasn't something he could share here. Not with Teyla as protective as a momma bear and Ronon still not meeting his gaze.

John had his arms crossed over his chest but that was just because he was mirroring Ronon's body language. At least he hoped he hadn't crossed them first. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember what either of them looked like when he'd entered. The meeting with the Lanteans had been over for several hours and he'd been fielding questions ever since. He'd had a quiet word with Rodney (mostly along the lines of _Don't you dare put words in my mouth ever again_ ) and there would be more to that conversation but it could wait. Rodney could handle himself while Atlantis was on Earth. Right now, he was more worried about Teyla and Ronon.

"And what is your position, Colonel Sheppard?"

Shit. He should have known this wasn't going to go well. Not with Teyla using his title in that brittle, hardened voice.

"In a nutshell," he began before taking a few deep breaths and uncrossing his arms, talking to Ronon even though it had been Teyla who had asked the question, "my position is that we defend our own. You and Teyla, you belong here with us. Those people that invaded us on the say so of a few paper pushers don't belong here. Therefore, we should have defended you. We should have given you the permission to defend yourself. I... well, I forgot. We have the best of the best on Atlantis. Unfortunately, there are people in the military who aren't the best of anything but they get the job done when we send them out to defeat the enemy. We point them in the right direction, hand them a gun, and tell them to go at it. Sometimes, that objective gets cloudy."

This time it was Ronon who responded with his deep, _full of ghosts_ voice that made him seem centuries old instead of still a young man. "Their objective was to kill aliens."

John cleared his throat, aware of just how fine the line was that he trod here. "In a matter of speaking, yes. We figured we'd have some Wraith to fight before they got into any real trouble. We messed up."

"When you say _we_ , who are you talking about?" Teyla asked, her voice beginning to ease a bit. There was still very little goodwill or understanding in it yet.

"I guess I mean me. So, really, I messed up. I let those paper pushers tell me how to run the city instead of telling them how it was going to be run."

"We still need to eat." Ronon's arms had already loosened even if they were still crossed. They didn't look as if they were holding in his insides, protecting his gaping chest from anyone else who might want a piece of him. As John looked over at him as he started talking, he was reminded of just how much he could have lost if Ronon had been more seriously hurt. If those men had taken their instructions a little more seriously, there was a very real possibility that Ronon would not have been standing here right now. The thought made him shiver.

All John could do was give him a questioning look before Teyla elaborated. "That was what Rodney was the most insistant upon. If you were forced to choose sides, you would pick the wrong side and then we would lose our food."

"The wrong side? Did he mean that you were the wrong side that I might pick? What?"

Teyla gave her memory another going over before answering, "Funding. We would lose our funding which would mean that half of our people would have to leave to find jobs elsewhere and the rest of us would have to beg for food."

Suddenly, Rodney's interference didn't seem so sinister. He'd only been trying to make sure that he had a home to come home to when the war here was done. It was exactly what John had been fighting for in all the meetings. _I want your promise that Atlantis won't get turned into a theme park_ , he'd said more than once or twice. What he'd really meant was _You can't take my home away from me_.

Which, when rendered down, really meant, _You can't take Ronon away from me_. John had come to realize, over the past several days, that he would do anything to keep Ronon beside him. He'd almost resigned. In fact, he'd pulled up the folder on his computer (the one he'd had ready since the day he'd officially taken over for Sumner) and nearly pushed the print icon. It would be altogether too easy to end his relationship with the United States Air Force.

He couldn't afford to make the powers-that-be angry with him, though. They still had to get back to the Pegasus galaxy. What would happen if he got back only to find that he alienated Ronon along the way.

"I want you both to remember that Dr. Rodney McKay once blew up a whole solar system. Let him fight for his own funding. If we run out of money for food, we'll just go hunting for more." If it were only that simple but it brought a smile to each of their faces. "Deal?"

Teyla moved forward, her hands on John's shoulders. "It is a deal." They leaned forward so that their foreheads were touching. While John might have pulled away after a few seconds, he stayed where he was, eyes closed, until Teyla broke the contact. She smiled wryly at him before sharing a parting glance with Ronon before turning to leave.

When they'd been alone for several long, silent moments, Ronon cleared his throat. "I should apologize for not coming to you."

"And the next part of that sentence should be _but I won't_. This was never your fault. I understand why you did what you did. If anything, I'm impressed."

His eyes narrowed as he glanced up, almost shyly. "Impressed? Because I got beat up."

"No, because you _let_ yourself get beat up. You did that for me. It means a lot. Next time, just so we're clear, I don't want you to back off. Not at all. I want to hear - through the grapevine because, of course, I'll be in a meeting, I'm sure - all about how you wiped the floor with their pathetic asses. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good." John sighed because he didn't have time to let this conversation get much further. Not right now. While he hoped they could continue this dialogue (something he never thought he'd be saying when it came to Ronon), he wasn't holding out hope for it to be tonight in his bed. Ronon still wasn't looking at him and it felt like there was still a wedge between them that would take time and energy to dispel. Instead of pushing, he decided to give Ronon some space to let this all sink in so that he could come to whatever conclusion fit with his thoughts. "I have to go check in with Woolsey and see how everything went today. We can talk at dinner." And then, as an after thought, he asked, "Okay?"

But he didn't answer. John pushed his hands into his pockets as he nodded at the silence. He didn't know what new words to throw into the mix to help Ronon see his side of the current events because he had no idea what had worked and what hadn't. Instead, he turned toward the door.

Strong arms wrapped around him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides, as warm lips pressed against his neck. "Okay," came the murmured reply. John found himself sinking back into Ronon's warmth as most of the tension in his body drained away.

"I don't want to lose you." John pressed his check against Ronon's forehead. "Through this whole thing, I hated the distance. Please, don't ever leave me like that again."

"I won't."

"And whatever still needs to be said between us-"

"Everything's said."

"But-"

"No." Ronon used his teeth to graze over the sensitive skin just below John's ear. "We're good, John. I forget, sometimes, that you aren't Satedan. Just like you forget I'm not from Earth. We both still have to figure things out."

"Do I need to do anything to make this right? Do I need to fight for your honor in a different way? Tell me, Ronon. I'll do it."

"Major Lorne tried to explain to me what you were dealing with but I understood him wrong. I tried to make this Sateda and it was failing all over again."

"God, I wasn't Kell, was I? Please tell me you weren't equating what I was doing to that dirt bag?"

Ronon's sigh was warm against his skin. "No. You remind me of Melena."

The very idea that Ronon was bringing up his former lover at a time like this brought tears to John's eyes that he had to quickly blink away. He'd never hold Nancy in as high esteem as Ronon held Melena. He didn't even know if he was capable of that sort of feeling for anyone. It made him feel small and absurdly unable to do anything right, the more he let his thoughts dwell on it. "You're afraid I'm going to do something that will get me killed? Stand in line, buddy. The odds of that happening are pretty astronomical."

He was quiet for long enough that John got worried that his flippant attitude, especially toward someone that Ronon still felt deeply for, had gotten him into trouble again. When John turned to make sure that Ronon was glaring at him (which never boded any good for the person it was directed toward), he found that Ronon was grinning instead. "I'm always afraid you'll get yourself killed but that wasn't it. She was passionate about the people around her. You're like that, too. I never want to get in the way of that. It's who you are."

"Ah, shucks. You're going to make me get all teary-eyed."

This time Ronon hit him. Not a nice hit either but a slug to the chest that made him wheeze for a minute or so while he tried to figure out if he was still on his feet or not. It was going to leave a bruise. "Hey! What'd you do that for?"

"Because you're being an ass. Listen, for once, without getting all snarky and defensive."

"Snarky? Who taught you that word? Oh, wait. I did." John stopped talking only because he knew Ronon was right. He'd spent the last few days in _Commander of Atlantis_ mode and snark had been his mantle that kept the slings and arrows from finding their mark. It was hard to step away from that person when he was done for the day. This wasn't the first time that Ronon had shocked him out of the character and back to someone who could have a vulnerable side without sending the fate of Atlantis straight toward chaos.

"People seem to think I let myself get beat up because I was worried about how it would look to your government if I sent some of their Marines back all bloody and bruised. That's not entirely true. I let them go at it without stopping them because I see what you're trying to do and want to help you achieve your goals."

John shook his head. "By getting yourself hurt? That's-"

"This isn't hurt," he growled. "This is bruised. There's a difference. Jennifer chased me out of the Infirmary for taking up her time. There was very little blood so it was hardly worth her time. But the encounter did what it needed to do."

"And that is?" This explanation was starting to reek of Teyla's doing. He could tell, just from the stream of words that were coming out of Ronon's mouth, that the two of them had discussed this at great length.

"It made you concentrate on Atlantis again. It brought you back to your priorities."

He wanted to scream _I've spent all fucking day dealing with my priorities_ but something in Ronon's gaze made him stop. Made him reconsider his words. It had been a long time since he'd seen Ronon looking this open and honest while this many words spewed out of him. He almost never brought up Melena. This moment was important in their relationship and he knew better than to do anything to destroy this openness.

Instead of venting his anger where it might do damage, he just sighed. "And my priorities are?"

"Me. Teyla. Rodney. Atlantis. Why are you letting them talk to you when you know what you need to do?"

The full impact of Ronon's words - and the message behind them - hit John with sudden clarity. He began walking backwards toward the door, eager to start in on these new priorities but wanting a last look of Ronon to strengthen his resolve. "You and me, buddy. One hour. Meet me in the gym. I've got some agression to work off and one of us needs to give Jennifer a good reason to get away from her paperwork and back to patching up soldiers."

"That person is gonna be you."

John couldn't help smiling broadly at his lover. "Yeah, it probably will be. And that will be okay."

***

It didn't take an hour for John to begin to right the wrongs. It took fifteen minutes. He stuck his head into the door of the conference room and beckoned to Woolsey. After giving him a quick rundown of what he was about to say and getting a nod in return (he could only hope it was the good kind of nod but he wasn't stopping to find out for sure), John waved his hand to get everyone's attention.

"Hey. I just wanted to remind you all that the Wraith are due any day now. They won't really care if we're done arguing over what sort of presence," he used air quotes for that last word, mostly because he'd seen a few of the people in the room use them off and on in sort of parody to how they were really meant to be used, "you all think that Atlantis should have. We're here now and there's nothing anyone can do about it. So I have an offer. Take it or leave it."

A murmur erupted but he was easily able to glare at the few people who felt they might have something to say. As planned, they all quieted.

"We're going to stay here for four months. That gives you a deadline, ladies and gentlemen. You have one hundred and twenty days to get the defenses of Earth back up and running in that time."

"But you have to defend the planet," shouted an Admiral. He might have been a Joint Chief of Staff but John couldn't remember, at this point, who was who. "You brought them here. It's your responsibility to get them to leave."

Right there. That was the reason that John had let himself be sucked into the meetings in the first place. He felt responsible. It would take years for John to release the burden of awakening the Wraith and then bringing them to Earth. In a way, there could be a case against him for the beating that Ronon had taken. It was John's fault that the Marines hadn't been properly corralled and their talents channelled elsewhere.

Both were a lie, though.

"My responsibility," John reminded them, "is to make sure the military presence in Atlantis is running smoothly. Yes, we came back to Earth to help against the threat and that's what we'll do. For four months. After that, we need to get back to the Pegasus galaxy. There are people there who need us more than you all do."

The room erupted with the sounds of hysterical people trying to get their say in before someone had a better thought. A part of him wanted to join the conversation, reiterating his stance until it stopped meaning anything. His last glimpse of Ronon, standing alone in the middle of an empty room with his mottled bruises and a satisfied smile, was enough to stop that idea from moving his feet forward.

"I'll take it from here, shall I?" Woolsey looked very satisfied for a man who was suddenly faced with the task of overseeing the rest of the pandemonium.

"You okay with this?"

"Destiny is not a matter of chance; it is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved."

"You make that up?"

Woolsey flashed a smile full of as much deadly promise as Ronon's when he stepped into the gym. This really was the man's forte. "William Jennings Bryan. But thank you for thinking I could come up with something so poetic. Now, I believe I'll clear this room of our opponents as effectively as you cleared out those Marines."

"You heard about that already?"

His only answer was the man's slight tip of the head, as if he was acknowledging the achievement. It was all the encouragement John needed to walk away from the arguments and cries of _Foul_. He had better things to do with his time. There were still wrongs to be righted.

***

John walked into the gym only minutes after Ronon so he was technically late. He'd sort of wanted to be the first one to arrive so that Ronon wouldn't have to worry that he'd suddenly gone back on his word but he'd gotten hung up with some of the other mundane affairs that happen when he was walking through the halls of Atlantis with somewhere to be. No one ever wanted to talk to him when he was just wandering about.

"Hey." He greeted Ronon almost shyly, his emotions of him getting the better of him as he once again saw the bruises. It was one thing to bear the badge of honor from scrapes and scars received while on a mission but another to have been a victim of violence. The idea that it was on his behalf unsettled John anew every time he saw the discolorations.

"Hey. You wanna spar?"

"If you want to."

Ronon looked confused. "I thought you wanted me here so we could spar."

"I did. I mean, I do. It's just," he ducked his head, suddenly shy, "I forgot how long it's been since it was just you and me."

"It was you and me this morning."

"And look how that turned out." John grinned as Ronon grimaced at his sarcastic tone. "You know what I mean. It's been a long time since we were together. Like this. Just the two of us. It makes a guy appreciate what he has."

With very deliberate movements, Ronon walked up until he and John were chest to chest. John loved that he had to tilt his head up to see Ronon's eyes when they were this close. There was always something very sexy about Ronon being a tad bit aggressive like this.

"What do you have?"

John could have made a list of everything that he'd successfully won back today. Instead, he leaned in and nipped at the skin covering Ronon's collarbone. "The only thing I really need. You."

"Damn straight." Ronon's chuckle rumbled through John's chest, warming him in places he hadn't realized needed the warmth before this moment. Things were far from perfect but it didn't matter because his priorities were right. At this exact moment, he had all he really needed right in front of him.


End file.
